


Honest Affection

by GreyLiliy



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarn loves Pharma. The doctor considers this fact over a drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honest Affection

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something semi-romantic while still being fairly close to character. Ha ha ha. Yes.
> 
> Song on Loop While Wrote: “Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus, which is now my theme song for HeadCanon!Tarn. :D

The most nauseating thing of it all, was that Tarn was in love.

Not the sappy, romantic novel sort of love that came with declarations of affection and treats. There were no sweet sugary words, gentle caresses, or promises of Conjux Endura to be found. Pharma swallowed deeply from his cube of high grade at the same time First Aid chastised him for having too much. Tarn did none of those things, but it was love all the same.

Tarn loved Pharma.

“You should take it easy with that,” First Aid said, his visor narrowing in frustration with his superior. He pointed to the second empty glass on the table, proof of Pharma’s earlier indulgence. “You do have work like the rest of us in the morning.”

“I can handle my high grade, nurse,” Pharma said. He rolled his optics and leaned back in his chair. Ambulon shuffled in the background, cleaning up the leftovers from their dinner in the tiny dining room and trying to make himself less noticeable. Pharma scoffed, “But if it suits your conscious, this is my last one for the night.”

“Good,” First Aid said, a smug satisfaction in his voice that made Pharma want to demote him farther down the ranks.

Pharma hummed, sloshing the liquid about in its glass. It wasn’t his fault, he supposed. The nurse didn’t understand Pharma had every right to be drinking himself into oblivion: He’d figured it out. Pharma had his suspicions— _Oh, did he ever_ —but he hadn’t confirmed them. Tarn liked Pharma.

After he blackmailed Pharma into interfacing with him, the good doctor figured it was just a show of dominance on Tarn’s part. The DJD leader wanted to remind Pharma who the power figure was in their little deal. It made sense, at the time. Pharma had gotten snarky with him and his men, and he was sure some ego was crossed enough to demand retaliation.

Or so Pharma thought.

When Pharma arrived the next week with a fresh cog, Tarn didn’t make any advances. The visit went as it did before Pharma’s submission. The cog was replaced. Pharma did minor repairs to the rest of the crew. Tarn invited him for a drink, which Pharma accepted. He assumed afterwards would be another round, but Tarn merely bid him goodnight. Pharma left, counting his blessings despite the confusion.

The visit after, Tarn yet again demanded another interfacing session. Well, not so much ‘demanded’ as he brushed the back of Pharma’s wing in  _that way_  that practically screamed what he wanted. Pharma’s memories of Vos prevented any struggle, and he played the part of Tarn’s little whore as needed.

And as always, interfacing with Tarn had been repulsing, physical pleasure aside. That he’d be reduced to fragging a Decepticon at all was beyond sickening. It was  _embarrassing._

“Are you going to bed, sir?” Ambulon asked, breaking Pharma from his thoughts. The Decepticon Ward Manager’s lips were pursed, and his eyes were concerned. The fool. Wasn’t he aware that Pharma despised him as well? Ambulon must not have known, because he asked again when Pharma didn’t answer. “We’re heading out now, are you staying?”

“I’ll be along in a minute,” Pharma said, holding up his glass. “I’ll see you both in the morning. Bright and early, now!”

“Sure, boss,” First Aid said. He tugged on Ambulon’s arm to get the mech moving. A few paint chips fell to the floor as Aid’s fingers brushed against the poorly painted arm, and Ambulon sighed. First Aid picked them up without releasing his grip on the Decepticon. Aid straightened and said, “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Pharma slumped in his chair when the nurse and ward manager left the small eating area. He rubbed between his optics, sighing deeply. He needed to pull himself together. He had to see Tarn again tonight, and showing up drunk wouldn’t work in his favor.

He wondered what Tarn would have in store this time. His new plans were what truly tipped Pharma off to his oddly honest affection.

Sure, he still wanted to frag Pharma into a berth or chair on occasion, but some nights he just wanted to talk. About himself, about Pharma. He showed genuine interest in Pharma’s answers about his prior life, or his current profession.

Tarn even asked how his day went at work one time.

Other times, he’d share some bit of music or a recording of an old opera. Drinks, and talks. But it usually came back to Pharma. Tarn did nothing to hide his interest in Pharma. He enjoyed spending time with Pharma during activities that didn’t involve an overload. Tarn liked Pharma. And through it all, Pharma’s thoughts kept returning to the same agonizing realization: Tarn was in love.

Pharma stood from his seat, and left the high grade on the table. He wasn’t in the mood to finish it any longer. Pharma shut off the light as he left the room, his body heavy. The hall was quiet, and the lights beneath Ambulon and First Aid’s rooms were dim. He’d go to his own and wait for an hour, and then be off again to The DJD headquarters. Perhaps by then he’ll have cleared his head enough to deal with the lovesick fool.

Pharma hadn’t even realized Decepticons were capable of love in that way. To see the imposing and terrifying Tarn look at Pharma with optics full of want and admiration was unnerving.

 _What was more frightening?_  Pharma wondered.  _The monster who wanted to torture you, or the beast who wanted to keep you?_

“This is getting me nowhere,” Pharma said to himself, dispelling the thoughts that tugged at his spark.

Both options were to be avoided. Pharma only wanted to live. He was willing to bow down a little to keep Tarn and his goons from destroying  _his_ base, so he should be willing to humor a little misplaced crush. Yes, Pharma could handle this.

No, he’d take advantage of it.

Pharma’s face split into a smug smile as he took slow steps to his room. Yes, that is what he would do. He’d  _play_  Tarn. He’d return that affection. Not all at once, oh no, oh no. Never all at once. But he’d play the game. Perhaps a bit at a time he’d be less reluctant to ignore Tarn as he spoke. His answers would be less stilted, and more relaxed.

Perhaps once night when Tarn looked to be uninterested in the physical pleasures of Pharma’s company, it would be  _Pharma_  who initiated that first kiss.

 _Yes._  He could see it now:

Pharma’d reach up on his own power. He’d draw his hands around the back of Tarn’s helm and draw little kisses on the front of his faceplate. Tarn would gasp. He’d be shocked and thrilled and shaking in anticipation as his little bleeding heart dreams came true. Pharma would reward him for his patience.  _Oh, would he._

His own blue fingers would unclip the face plate on Tarn’s face. He’d throw it to the ground—that wretched symbol of Megatron’s. What was under it was far more enticing. Pharma would trace the hidden features underneath. The grey skin, covered in tiny scratches that fractured across an old faceplate. He’d kiss the largest scar under Tarn’s left optic as Pharma slid into his lap. He’d nip and pull at Tarn’s lips, until they were kissing.

It was always better to keep Tarn’s mouth busy with things other than speech. A quiet Tarn was much more desired in the berth. No cheating in hurrying along Pharma’s overload using quiet whispers.  _No, no._

Pharma’d grind and rub. He’d cling and bite and do all the little things that made Tarn’s spark burst and hands grope at his frame like a starving mech who’d just been offered a fresh cube of low grade. Tarn would  _whine_  like a needy babe. Pharma would pull and tug on exposed wires, energy would race, and it would all be such tangible, rough,  _want._

Tarn would overload with the words  _“I love you”_  on his lips.

Pharma’s optics lit up. He braced against the wall, his vents heaving, his body warm and aching. His spark pulsed heavily, and his legs were weak. Pharma clutched at his chest with one hand, and his other gripped his thigh.

_What was that?_

Tarn was messing with his head. Even from miles away in his sequestered little base in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by his minions, Tarn managed to drive Pharma insane.

It was nauseating and terrifying.

Pharma touched the edge of his lips, and rubbed his helm into the side of the wall. He had to see Tarn tonight.

Perhaps he’d put his plan to use on another night. When he had more control of himself.

When Pharma wasn’t so terrified of Tarn’s infectious love.


End file.
